Handfuls of Dust
by Kellen
Summary: Separated by years and lies, two friends find each other again. AU, Infected 'verse; sequel to In Rain Toushirou/Momo


Handfuls of Dust

Author: Kel

Fandom/Characters: Bleach/ Toushirou + Momo

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Separated by years and lies, two friends find each other again. Alternate Universe. (Infected 'verse; sequel to _In Rain_)

Disclaimer/Notes: Recognizable characters are not mine, but Kubo Tite's. T.S Eliot's The Wasteland provided both the title and quote at the beginning. Written for livejournal's AU Big Bang challenge. See my writing journal at taegan_kel for accompanying artwork/fanmix.

* * *

_"April is the cruelest month,_

_breeding lilacs out of the dead land,_

_mixing memory and desire,_

_stirring dull roots with spring rain."_

_-T.S. Eliot_

It was raining.

Toushirou had never really been one to complain about the weather. Even heavy rain that fell straight and sorrowful never bothered him. Today's rain, though, was driven by wind, crashing sideways into the broken buildings. The wind didn't whisper. It pounded at the broken concrete and screamed when it hit old tin. It was angry and Toushirou pulled his collar up against it. Had he wished, he could walk though untouched by it all, but when the rain spoke, he had learned to listen.

His rifle was slung over his back. It was his one concession to his new life. Before the change, he would have walked slowly, rifle held tightly in his hands. It had been the only way he would have been ready for the Threat. He wasn't entirely sure why he still carried the weapon; perhaps it was as simple as reassuring himself. He would always need a back-up, if only to set his mind at ease.

This had once been a small thriving city; Rangiku had told him stories about growing up here. Sometimes he wondered if she had stayed in the area out of some sort of misplaced sentimentality or if she just had never had the means to get out. He was in what used to be downtown, near the remains of the fountain where Rangiku had first met him. (He couldn't say he'd met her there, as unconscious as he'd been at the time.) He moved quickly, hopping over the low, crumbling wall of the fountain, and moved toward tallest building in the area. It was only three stories high; which was as high as anything was anymore. Anything any taller had been a target in the war that had decimated the continent.

Toushirou ducked inside, his senses reaching out and sliding through the rain. He didn't understand – and probably never would fully understand – how it worked. It was something that had been there after he'd woken up from the Threat-induced fever that had almost taken his life. He could hear the rain, listen to the river, and he tried not to think of what it meant too often. If he relaxed and let the rain wash over him – used it and focused solely on it –he could use his awareness to see what was moving in the storm. He rarely tried. As much awareness of the things that he couldn't see that the rain brought him, it left him far too open to the threats around him. He'd done it a couple times, when he absolutely needed to find someone but only when Rangiku had been actively watching his back. He was far too vulnerable otherwise.

A quick glance into the rain gave him enough of a direction to start to looking. The Army had been more active than usual in this area lately; meant there was a reason for it and Toushirou would be damned if he didn't find it out. There were only two reasons for it: more Threat around or they'd caught wind of the Infected camp near here. Either way, Toushirou needed to know what they were doing.

The stairs at the back of the building were in disrepair and did not look like they would hold his weight. (Such that it was; he'd always been smaller than most anyone else he'd come across and he rather hated it sometimes.) He bounded up them. He had been surefooted before the change and he was even more so now. Unsteady no longer slowed him down, unless, he forgot he wasn't what he'd been before.

He settled on the roof, next to what was left of several vents. There was something out to the southwest, coming closer, but Toushirou hadn't been able to tell what it was. There was a high probability it was an Army squad, but it could be an Infected party or Threat moving in the storm. The Threat did like coming in with the wind. Whether it was an overinflated sense of the dramatic or just instinct, he didn't know. He'd never wanted to get close enough to the Threat to find out.

Toushirou pulled his rifle off his back and held it up so he could look through the scope. After a quick look around to make sure he truly was alone he opened himself to the rain and let it guide him. The scope moved to the right; more south than west. Slowly, he pulled back from the rain – he'd found out the hard way that severing whatever connection he had only led to disorientation if done to quickly– and the forms of soldiers came into focus through the scope. He adjusted his grip, shifted slightly, and worked to pick out the pertinent details.

There was a group of six were being led by a sergeant. That was standard practice although they usually liked officers to lead the groups. It depended on the personnel, really. They said three pairs was the best for both hunting Threat and rounding up Infected, so Toushirou still didn't know exactly why they were out here. If HQ had somehow got wind of the camp out here, they had to move inow/i. They might should move anyway, all things considered, if Army patrols had been stepped up like Toushirou suspected. He'd have to speak to Rangiku about it. Much as he hated to admit it, she had more experience in the camp than he did, even if he had managed to turn himself into some sort of de facto leader. (He hadn't meant to; it had just happened.)

He moved the scope from person to person. He had never really expected to come across someone he knew, but he was close enough to his former base that it wasn't outside the realm of possibilitiy. If there was someone he knew out there, it wouldn't be the first time he'd had a former comrade in his sights. The scope skimmed over the squad and then settled on the apparent leader. Toushirou sighed, eyes narrowing.

Tohtsoni had survived had he? He should be glad; Tohtsoni had served under him and he had come damn close to not making it in that ill-fated hunt a couple years ago. Toushirou snorted softly as he followed the squad's progress. He knew good and well what his squad had done to him and he found it hard to feel much of ianything/i toward his former subordinate. Tohtsoni had left him to die. Even if it hadn't been his idea alone he had gone along with it. Had they drug him back, sick and injured, he wouldn't have survived, but that was hardly an excuse to simply leave him lying among rubble without any hope of help.

Hopefully, Tohtsoni had learned something from it at the very least. If he was that willing to leave any of his squad behind – subordinate or superior – then he was not fit to lead. Toushirou scowled and lowered the rifle and then used his sleeve to wipe the rain off the end of the scope. The squad was headed almost straight east. They'd miss the camp that way, but it was far too close for comfort. Toushirou crossed the roof at a fast clip, crouching low so as to not be seen.

He would follow them and make damned sure that squad stayed away from his people.

He quickly made his way down the crumbling stairs, moving over the rubble and debris as quietly as he could. He'd come out of the building behind the squad, ready to follow, and it wasn't until he stepped into the rain that he stumbled. The water sluiced over his face, down his neck, insistent and demanding; a rock rolled under his foot and Toushirou went to one knee to catch himself. The rain whispered of the Threat.

Toushirou regained his feet, looking to the south, and reluctantly let the rain speak to him. Rather than blindly hunt, it was better to let the water give him direction, even if it left him open to attack. He hated doing this, especially with the Army squad around. If all else failed and they discovered him perhaps he could impress upon Tohtsoni that the man owed Toushirou… He hated playing on emotional weakness like that, but he might not have another choice if this went wrong.

In his mind's eye, an image formed: the black, undulating forms of the Threat moving through the rain, quickly and quietly. They moved even more gracefully than the Infected, their passage barely rustling leaves and grass. Toushirou reached out blindly, his hand clamping on the doorjamb. He needed some sort of anchor ihere/i. Since the change whenever he watched the Threat it drove home that the virus that had Infected him had came from them. Made him irelated/i to them, and made him some sort of human-Threat hybrid that belonged in neither world. Being here, sensing them through the rain of all things, just made it all the more real to him.

He came back to himself gradually clutching at the doorjamb like it was a lifeline and swallowed hard. The Threat – three of them, their idea of an ideal hunting party – had scented the Army squad. Even if the squad managed to take them down it wouldn't be without casualty. Perhaps even fatality. For a moment, Toushirou was tempted to simply forget it and go back to camp. He could get them moving fairly quickly. Let the Threat and the Army sort it out for themselves.

He sighed and stepped forward, though. That moment was gone nearly as quickly as it had come. For all that he wasn't quite human anymore, he had been once and it was the Threat that was the greater enemy.

Besides, he could always pull in a few favors if he saved some Army asses from the fire.

He pulled himself completely free of the rain's direction and took a deep breath. Two years of doing this and he still found it hard to come back without disorientation. His fingers uncurled from the doorjamb and he rolled his shoulders before adjusting the strap that held his rifle in place.  
The squad was moving straight east - their trajectory, should they not deviate, would barely miss the confines of his camp's perimeter - and the Threat were moving northeast, intending, it seemed, to intercept them. They'd meet - again, if nothing changed - far too close to camp for comfort. That, more than anything else influenced Toushirou's decision to help. He couldn't let them get that close to his people.

He ran east, moving far more quickly than the Army squad, and trying not to think about how similar it was to how the Threat moved. Rubble under his feet was barely displaced and he hardly made a sound. He was too close for comfort to both parties and he stopped a few times to re-orient himself and to make sure he was staying well out of eyesight. He sidled up to the corner of a building. The squad was close-by just around a couple corners if he'd gauged it right. There was an old fire-escape above him. The ladder hanging from it was hanging on by just a thread but it was enough for him. If he didn't mess it up.

Reminding himself that he icould/i do this, Toushirou closed his eyes and opened himself to the rain. Just enough to sense the edges of the building and the escape in sharp relief, and imoved/i. He never could explain how it worked. It was simply what it was: moving quickly, almost as if he disappearing from one place and reappearing in another. He'd seen Rangiku pull it off a few times; she said she hated doing it, it made her dizzy, but she was good.

He was better.

It took two jumps - one to the wall and one to push off the wall - and Toushirou landed in a crouch on the escape's landing with the smallest creak of distressed metal. He shifted slightly, his hand coming to rest on the wet metal railing. iThere./i The rain quieted again and the sharp relief of the railing gradually faded to normal. Someday, maybe, he could do this without having to stop and re-orient himself each time. He stood and quickly made his way up the steep stairs and then settled on a landing a couple levels above the ground where a wall had started crumbling. The open window would provide sufficient cover.

A quick look into what used to be an apartment - pretty upscale by the look of it - proved that he was alone. A child's doll lay forgotten on the floor and in another corner lay a pile of old, moth-eaten clothes. Every apartment here looked the same and Toushirou had stopped flinching at the remains of normal life and normal people. If he did every time he was reminded he'd never stop cowering. Life went on; there was no other way to think about it. He might as well put himself in front of an Army rifle - or the Threat's claws - if he lived too much in the past.

He pressed himself back against the wall rifle cradled in his hands when Tohtsoni's squad came back around the corner. He hadn't expected that although, perhaps he should have. Rangiku often told him that if something could go wrong - or simply just be unexpected - it would happen to him. She called herself his good-luck charm and he wondered what the hell his luck would be without her.

Movement in the corner of his eye garnered his attention. He brought the scope up to look through it and scowled at what he saw. He had known Kiyone was going to be out looking for useful things for the camp, but he hadn't realized that she'd come this way, or come this far out. She was supposed to stay on the east edge of camp. That's what she'd said when he'd asked after her plans. Damn her impulsive nature.

He moved the scope toward the Army squad and his scowl deepened. They'd run right into each other, and the Threat was right behind them. Kiyone would be killed at best, dragged in with the Army at worst, and Rangiku would have his head for all of it. He found Kiyone in his scope again, careful not to sight at the dark blond head. Rangiku would have his head for this one anyway. He might as well try to save Kiyone while he was at it.

It was easy enough to fall into old patterns. Toushirou ignored the rain, even as it clamored for his attention. He wouldn't use it to guide him now; he'd been a crackshot before the change and getting sick hadn't changed that. He took a deep breath, aimed to the left of Kiyone, exhaled, held his breath, and squeezed the trigger. The shot echoed between the buildings and Toushirou imagined that Tohtsoni's troop had pressed themselves against the nearest wall, dropping for cover. They would have if they were worth their salt anyway.

The bullet struck the concrete left of Kiyone's shoulder. Toushirou watched her jerk and backpedal furiously. Good girl. Bullets meant soldiers and soldiers meant irun/i. That much, even Kiyone wouldn't question. He watched her long enough to make sure she was actually running in the right direction. He wouldn't herd her with bullets; if it came down to her running in the wrong direction he would have broken cover and gotten her out of there first.

And then they'd have to run straight to camp and gotten them moving, ibefore/i the Army and the Threat came down on them. Toushirou would rather lead them both away and give his people at least a little time to prepare for a move.

Kiyone would be a little shook up, but she'd be all right. The question now was him. The Army had to have heard that shot and so the Threat would have too. He used the scope again, moving it until he found the squad, and cursed. Damn Tohtsoni and his good ears; he'd turned straight toward Toushirou's hiding place. Leaving them be for a moment – they hadn't seen him and he could outrun any Army scout – he turned his attention toward finding the Threat.

That took using the rain as he couldn't rely on his eyes when looking for the Threat. With one more look toward the squad – they were moving in his direction, but hadn't seen him yet– he opened himself up to the rain.

There. Moving through the alley a block to his right. Still headed for the squad, headed for him, but away from Kiyone. His single shot had done all that he'd wanted and more. Everyone's attention seemed to be on flushing him out.

Perhaps it was time to move a bit. It was better for them to think that they had flushed him out than actually be forced to move. Toushirou scowled as he left the window and then jumped over the railing. All that trouble to get up here – even if it wasn't really itrouble/i – and he ended up spending less then ten minutes there. It was worth it, though as it had put him in a good vantage point to get Kiyone out of the way. He landed in a crouch, steadying himself with a hand on the ground.

Now all he had to do was outsmart an army squad of four and three Threat. Nothing more challenging than that. Toushirou sighed; it went against all his instincts to actually let either one of them see him and it was little consolation that the Threat had probably sniffed him out already. The last thing he needed, or wanted, was to end up on the defensive at any time in the next few minutes. Hours. Ever.

For a moment, he thought about setting them both on each other. It would be easy enough. Show himself – just a glimpse – to the Army and they'd be sure to run after him. All he'd have to do would be to run toward the Threat. (And hell if every instinct he had didn't scream against that one.) The Army would be suddenly busy, the Threat would (hopefully) forget him as he slipped away, and...

… and he could head back to camp, gather up everyone and force them to move in no time at all. Goddamn it, but they'd been uprooted from their homes too often already. He wouldn't do it do them unless he absolutely had to.

He wrapped the rifle strap around his hand and carried it just in front of the trigger guard. This was absolute madness. Toushirou took a deep breath and held it for a moment before he moved. The corner of the building where the alley emptied to a deserted street – deserted save for six soldiers – was only a few steps away. He tensed and then forced himself to relax just a little, before stepping around the corner. The soldiers would be to his right with the Threat coming up on his left.

What he was doing went against every survival tactic he'd been taught and taught himself. Keep out of sight was the cardinal rule – first thing he learned and the last thing he forgot.

Then again, his instincts might have screamed louder about all this if the damned soldiers would have looked in his direction. The Threat would kill them all if they weren't more observant. Hell, Toushirou could have picked off half of them before they saw him from here, standing on the side of the street. He rolled his eyes; it would serve them right to be killed. He wasn't stooping low enough to whistle in their direction. (Although, he had to admit, the thought of a well-placed wolf whistle was somewhat amusing. That would definitely get their attention.)

The Threat was the greater evil here, though, and Toushirou wouldn't treat them as lightly as he treated the soldiers. (And the soldiers were not, despite Tohtsoni's oh-so wonderful showing here, to be taken lightly.) Toushirou turned toward the Threat, leaping lightly over pieces of rubble, and allowed a small smirk when a shout went up behind him.

So they'd seen him. About damned time.

Toushirou wasn't sure if the rain carried the sound to him or he was imagining things, but he could swear he heard the cocking of a rifle behind him. He sprinted forward; there was an alley up ahead and to the right. Once he got in there, he could circle the building and hopefully come around behind the Threat and avoid the soldiers at the same time. He dove into the alley as a hail of gunfire chipped at the debris and wall. Out of direct line of sight for a moment, Toushirou reached out for the rain. He focused on a clear area near the other end of the alley and stepped forward, disappearing and reappearing there. He slid to a stop on one knee, shook his head, and moved forward again. A couple more jumps and perhaps he could make up the time lost by going around the building.

Never mind it would keep him out of the way of any bullets heading his way.

He jumped around the corner of the building and jumped again into the adjacent alley, and that was more than enough for Toushirou. The last thing he needed was to end up jumping into the middle of either the Army squad or the Threat. He shook his head to clear it and jogged down the alley.

He hoped he timed this right.

He slowed at the end of the alley and crept toward the opening while staying close to the south wall. He'd rather be seen by soldiers than the Threat. He kept low, though. No sense in making himself a target for either party. The rain grew louder as Toushirou crouched at the edge of the alley and, with only a touch of the water's direction, he found the Threat. He hadn't quite got behind them – he'd gone too fast – but he still had a good shot as they passed by.

This would be interesting. If the camp had not been so close he would have already run. He only had a few people, but they counted on him. That was good enough for him to stay out here, almost within arm's reach of three of the Threat.

Great black forms undulated along the debris. They moved silently and far more confidently than any human or infected. Toushirou sighted through the scope. He hardly needed it, this close, but hell if he was taking a chance. He'd learned from experience, thanks.

He hit the closest Threat first, firing twice before it fell back. It wasn't dead, but at least it was slower now. Gunfire came from up the street; the soldiers were actually making themselves useful. It wasn't long at all before the first black form slid gracelessly to the ground.

And that's when the biggest drawback when fighting the Threat came: they disappeared.

They did it well, somehow managing to melt into the rocks and debris. To be invisible against a wall. They were chameleons, shapeshifters, something. Army scientists had speculated that their bodies were so far removed from human that it was their physical forms that changed. Toushirou, after years of fighting them, thought differently. It almost seemed like it was some sort of mental block. According to the rain, they were still there. His eyes wouldn't see them, his mind wouldn't acknowledge them. Considering all the things an Infected could do that a human couldn't, what's to say that the Threat couldn't simply hide by drawing on the elements? In Toushirou's mind, it made sense. He never would have thought of it before he'd become Infected. No one in the Army thought much about the Infected anyway, not unless they were hunting them.

And even if the rain could direct him to them, it was still damned difficult and it had to be done fast. He wasn't going sit out here disoriented while they were around.

Tense silence settled upon the street. Toushirou kept his rifle trained in the direction he'd last seen the Threat. Nervous shuffling footsteps echoed quietly in the street as the Army party moved forward and fanned out. For now, at least, they were fighting a common enemy.

That would turn soon.

Toushirou snorted softly. It wasbest not to think of it. He swept his gaze over the debris and broken pavement, using his scope to peer at it carefully. Any anomaly in the rock could be one of the Threat, but that was hard to spot in broken debris. That was an anomaly in itself – or should have been.

He saw something move and shifted to get a closer look; before he could, shots rang out from the Army squad and he cursed. Couldn't they wait until they were sure what they were shooting at? Idiots. He scrambled backward as one of the Threat erupted from its hiding place, its unearthly roar echoing as it leaped toward the squad.

Half the squad scrambled backward. Tohtsoni shouted at them while the other two actually did something about it. iIdiots/i. Had Tohtsoni learned nothing when he had served under him? Toushirou snarled and darted forward, temporarily leaving cover to get actual, hopefully effective, shots off. He didn't have that many bullets in his clip before he had to reload. With a little luck, the squad could get something done.

Toushirou didn't have that much faith. He fired twice, careful to keep from catching any of the squad in the crossfire and he rather wished that they had the same concern for him. Bullets – fired wildly and in fear – completely missed the Threat and chipped at the concrete behind Toushirou's head.

Damn them. Toushirou ducked, fired another shot, and darted forward. They were doing a damn fine job of trying to kill the only help they had. Putting himself in plain sight invited more risks than he cared to think about, but maybe if they saw him plain as day they'd quit shooting at him. At least hold their fire until the Threat was down. He couldn't be entirely sure, since they were, almost certainly, under orders to take in any Infected as well. He hoped that they had more sense than that.

He shouldn't have worried. As soon as he was more in the open, a pile of rubble shifted and drew everyone's attention – including his. Too close for his liking, Toushirou backpedaled and spun around on his heels before he fired off a shot. Thankfully, the idiots Tohtsoni had out there were helpful; the Threat was staggering backward under a hail of gunfire while another roared and revealed its hiding place. It caught the squad's attention, but Toushirou was focused on something else.

The third Threat had hidden, but not well enough. A sharp-eyed gaze – and a little help from the rain – picked it out as it undulated across the rubble and into an adjacent alley. Smart thing; Toushirou held no delusions it was actually retreating and so, while the Army squad focused on taking down the two in front of them, he scuttled back toward the edge of the buildings.

Later, he'd look back on this and decide he was one hell of a sentimental fool. He should have let the Army take them and he couldn't quite tell himself that he was doing all this for his people's best interests. He just hated seeing the Threat take anyone, Army or not. That was all it was. He sidled along the wall too far into the open. Luckily, the Threat kept the soldier's attention. They'd seen him though. They'd definitely seen himand Tohtsoni's eyes were narrowed and his brow furrowed. Goddamn him.

Toushirou kept one eye on the solders and one "eye" on the Threat as it quickly moved around the building. He couldn't level his rifle in wait – it would come behind the squad and the last thing he wanted to do was invite fire on him by seemingly pointing his weapon at them.

He was a sniper. He could do this. He'd shot from the hip before. Toushirou opened himself to the rain, sighed, and waited.

Waited. Kept waiting.

It crashed through the alley behind Tohtsoni and Toushirou moved as quickly as he could, lifting and sighting along the rifle as the edges of his vision sharpened and snapped into harsh relief. He had three bullets left and all of them were put to use. Hyper-aware now, he watched Tohtsoni turn, and almost lose his balance as he did. The Threat staggered backward and, while the soldiers' attention was split, Toushirou turned tail and ran.

Let them clean up. He would have to stop and reload and he wasn't doing that in their presence.

He stopped in the alley the Threat had come through, behind the squad. Knowing Tohtsoni – he hoped he knew him well enough – the man would insist on investigating their strange help. Hopefully he'd do it alone. Toushirou climbed carefully onto a fire escape, once again taking refuge in a broken out window, and waited.

He didn't have to wait long. Tohtsoni peeled away from his compatriots soon enough and Toushirou closed his eyes for a moment, steeling himself. He'd never wanted to try going back and he sure as hell never wanted to rekindle the nostalgia that hit him every so often. Tohtsoni passed under him; Toushirou waited until he'd taken a few more steps and then stepped over the railing, calling on the rain descending.

Toushirou dropped down behind Tohtsoni, rifle held at the ready. This was risky enough; he wasn't going to tempt fate any more than he already had. Tohtsoni wasn't completely oblivious. He was half-turning to defend himself when Toushirou spoke to him. "I wouldn't shoot."

Tohtsoni's eyes went almost comically wide. "Captain?"

Toushirou didn't bother with the obvious answer - he wasn't Tohtsoni's captain anymore. "Get your people out of here."

Tohtsoni bristled. "Why?"

Damn Tohtsoni for actually paying attention to him when Toushirou had led the squad. He'd always tried to teach his squad not to take anything at face value. The Threat could hide anywhere and that kind of one-dimensional thinking would have been the death of them. Too bad Tohtsoni chose now to take those lessons to heart. "I just kept your squad from being torn apart. The least you could do is listen."

"I would, if you'd say something interesting."

Toushirou bristled now and was grimly satisfied when Tohtsoni took a step back. Infected or not, Toushirou had once been the man's commanding officer and, honestly, being Infected probably helped with the intimidation factor. Tohtsoni wouldn't want to be anywhere near him - he was less than human now, after all, and completely capable of Infecting Tohtsoni, should he come too close. (At least, that's what they believed. Toushirou knew better. He wondered briefly what Tohtsoni would think if he knew that Infected couldn't actually spread the virus simply by breathing on him. Now, if he bled on Tohtsoni, that would be a different story entirely.) "Tohtsoni." It was an old trick, simply snapping his name and garnering attention. Maybe he'd snap into that old command structure.

Tohtsoni, though, narrowed his eyes in thought and, though he didn't come forward again and his voice echoed with traces of fear, he spoke. "There are other Infected near." It wasn't a question; a statement of fact.

Damn him for picking smart ones for his squad. Toushirou's lip curled in a sneer. Not answering was as much of an answer as simply saying yes would be, but Toushirou wouldn't be cornered into revealing a damned thing. "We're fighting the Threat, same as you. Next time I'll just let them come through." It was an idle threat; Tohtsoni, if he was thinking, would know that. Then again, maybe he fell in with the school of thought that the Infected were nothing more than ruthless animals. He'd thought that before he became Infected. Tohtsoni didn't answer and Toushirou took that to mean that, perhaps, he wouldn't see any Army squads trying to corner the Infected in this area anytime soon. He knew it wasn't a sure thing – wasn't much of anything, at that – but he'd take whatever Tohtsoni was willing to give him.

For a moment, there was silence. Tohtsoni refused to speak and Toushirou let him stew before he took it upon himself ask his questions. "Do I worry about Army or Threat movement in this area?"

Tohtsoni was quiet, most likely in thought, but Toushirou wasn't sure what prompted this silence. "I don't know about Army movements. They don't give me that information."

Of course they didn't. Toushirou scowled at him; any two-bit grunt knew a few basics, but it seemed Tohtsoni's loyalty was well in place. At least, well enough in place that he still held state secrets without shooting an Infected on sight. "Threat movement?" Toushirou prompted.

"I wouldn't go south of here for awhile."

Nothing like shaken loyalties to serve up a little useful information. Toushirou nodded, effectively leaving the subject behind. "Has anything changed?" He stumbled over the sentence, nearly adding an "at home" to the end of it. Stupid of him.

Tohtsoni's lips quirked. "She's fine, if that's what you're asking." He shrugged. "Still working in HQ and the last I saw her, she seemed to be doing well."

Toushirou didn't bother with trying to correct him; he would have asked about Momo before long anyway and, apparently, Tohtsoni knew it. He grunted and slung the rifle back over his shoulder. The conversation was done. He had no use for nostalgia; his only concern now was to get to his people and move them. Couldn't do that and dwell in the past. "Don't tell her you saw me."

Tohtsoni snorted. "If I told anyone, they'd have my head for letting an Infected get away." He pressed his lips together. "We told HQ that you'd been killed in the attack."

Toushirou nodded. Well, then. That took care of that. At least Momo would never think he ran away. He took a step back. "Don't come back this way." He turned on his heel and, with only moment's hesitation as he reached for the rain, jumped. No sense in letting Tohtsoni see which way he was going.

Might as well dazzle him in the process.

He eventually came to rest on a rooftop where he could watch Tohtsoni lead his squad away. He watched for a moment, eyes worried and heart heavier than he wanted to admit. He was dead to them.

He supposed they needed to be dead to him too.

* * *

Momo threaded through the throngs of people, carefully holding her lunch tray. She stepped sideways and ducked under the arm of an oblivious infantryman. At least she was small enough to do that; otherwise, she might be wearing the lunch she worked so hard to get. (Standing in line for that long was definitely hard work, in this cafeteria that served as HQ's all-purpose lunchroom.) She frowned in the general direction of the man, huffed quietly when he still didn't notice her, and started for the table she usually shared with friends.

Renji and Izuru were already waiting for her – they must have scuttled away for lunch early in order to be here saving her a seat – and she sighed a little when she sat down. "That," she said, "is a lot of people."

Renji shrugged and smiled at her. "Usually is, 'specially when they're hosting trainings here." He reached over, inked eyebrow raised, and poked at the sandwich sitting on her plate. "You know that's not real turkey, right?"

Momo half-squeaked (and ignored Izuru chuckling quietly behind his hand) and slapped at Renji's hand. "That's my food!"

"Fake food."

"It's food," she insisted, "and I'm hungry. Don't you poke at my sandwich."

Renji made a face. "You spent your lunch credits on fake food."

Momo huffed at him and pointed at the pasta half-eaten on his plate. "You think that's real cheese?" She ignored Renji's pout and and set to making sure her sandwich was unscathed by Renji's unprovoked attack. Fake turkey or not, it was food and she was hungry.

"How are you feeling?"

Momo blinked and looked up at Izuru, then smiled at him. "Much better, thank you." She shrugged as she pushed her straw into her lemonade. (Fake also, but what wasn't anymore?) "It was just a little cold."

"Again," Renji interjected.

Izuru nodded. "You're overworking yourself."

"I am not."

"Momo-"

"Really," she insisted. "I'm not. I take it easy when I need to. I can't help that I can't shake off one cold all that easily."

"Maybe you need to take another day's rest," Izuru said.

Momo was shaking her head before he finished speaking. "I can't justify staying home and sleeping for a simple headache. Besides," she said, waving her hand, "it's gone now and I feel fine." She picked up her sandwich and was all set to take a bite when Renji spoke.

"If you're sure?"

She blinked at him over her sandwich. "Trying to eat here, Renji."

"Maybe you should go home, visit your grandmother or something."

"Renji!" Despite the playful tone of her voice, Momo gave him a sad-eyed look, somewhere between intending to tease and frustrated with him. "I came here to eat, not be lectured."

Renji, though, reacted not with abashed playfulness like she thought he would, but with a genuinely horrified and apologetic expression. "I'm sorry."

She blinked at him. "What?"

He looked positively horrified. "That was the worst thing I could say."

Momo simply stared at him for a moment before she got it, then that slightly frustrated, playfulness bled away. She pressed her lips together and looked down at her sandwich. She wasn't quite so hungry anymore. "No, no. It's all right." It wasn't, really, but what else would she tell Renji? She didn't want to upset him.

There was silence at the table for a moment and even the normally raucous din of fellow diners seemed somehow muted. Momo didn't look up; instead she focused on making sure her sandwich was just right. Somehow, making sure there were no hanging pieces of fake turkey seemed more important than meeting Renji's apologetic gaze or Izuru's awkward eyes. She'd picked that up from Toushirou and his idiot compulsive, obsessive self.

She really missed him.

"Sorry," she heard Renji say again, and his voice was low.

She looked up and gave him as much of a smile as she could manage. It wasn't much, and a bit watery, but she tried, for his sake. "It's all right. Really. It's been awhile." She tried not to think about how long it had been since Toushirou's squad had come back without him. She visited Granny as often as she could, but those visits always turned bittersweet. Toushirou had been her grandson – the son of her daughter – and Momo an orphaned child she'd taken in. When they were growing up, Momo had never felt less than family but it was all to apparent now that Granny's heart was shattered when her grandson had died out there.

Momo both loved and hated going to visit her. She never needed that picture on the piano to remind her of Toushirou's furrowed brow or grumpy blue-eyed gaze, but it still sat there. Sometimes she wished Granny would take it down, but that just seemed disrespectful to his memory somehow. She suddenly shook her head and resolutely took a bite of the sandwich. Maybe she would go visit Granny again soon. She really needed to; Granny might need her, too.

The silence settled into something a little less tense, even if Renji still looked apologetic and Izuru looked like he wanted nothing more than to leave her to her thoughts. The din around them became a little more normal and Momo nodded once and sighed. Life moved on. That's just how it was. How it always had been.

"How's that fake turkey?"

Her lips quirked a bit as she looked at Renji. "It's fine."

"Really?"

"It tastes like turkey. Just likes it's supposed to." And to illustrate her point, she took as big a bite as she could manage.

"Now I know you're lying."

"Renji!" Izuru sounded scandalized.

Momo just choked. At least things seemed back to normal. She could handle normal. Later, she would write Granny a message and see about a visit next month. Until then, she had work to do and she would never get anything done if she started dwelling on things that couldn't be changed. There were files to rework and reports to type and schedules to make... She had too much to do to think about anything other than work.

"Hey." Renji leaned forward, his hand on her elbow, and nodded toward the wide entrance. "It's that creepy colonel."

"That's rude," Momo hissed at him. (She did agree, though. Colonel Ichimaru was a strange, strange man, but he worked for who seemed to be a very nice general.)

"I have to go."

Momo and Renji both blinked at Izuru. "But..." she said.

Izuru just shook his head. "Break's over. I have places to be."

"Izuru, wait." But Renji was too late – or perhaps Izuru simply wasn't listening. The slight man was weaving his way through the crowd quickly, and disappeared out a side door. Momo caught sight of him jogging across the enclosed courtyard. (If it could be called a courtyard; the greenery wasn't much and the rock work nowhere near decorative.)

"What got into him?" she asked.

Renji shrugged, eyes on Ichimaru. "I don't know. He gets a little strange when Ichimaru is mentioned, but I thought it was just because he thought the man was as creepy as we did."

"He's not a wimp," Momo said. "He wouldn't run because of that."

"I'll talk to him."

She nodded, eyes narrowed as she watched Ichimaru pause inside the doorway and scan the crowd. She was more than a little surprised when his gaze settled on her and Renji and he strode over toward them, ever-present smile wide. Momo drew back, sitting up straight and blinking as the colonel stopped right in front of her. She could feel Renji's hand under the table, long fingers wrapped around her knee. She blinked, her gazed sliding to him for a moment, and then back to Ichimaru when he spoke.

"Second Lieutenant Hinamori?"

Momo nodded, swallowed when she realized you didn't just nod when a colonel addressed you and somehow managed to find her voice. "Yes, sir."

With a flourish, Ichimaru set a datapad in front of her. "New orders. As of tomorrow morning, you'll start working in Research and Development with Brigadier General Aizen."

"Oh." She should find something more intelligent to say. She was a lieutenant addressing a colonel. It wasn't that hard. She had protocol to follow. "Yes, sir." That was slightly more intelligent, if the same thing she'd already said.

"You're to get your affairs together in your current office this afternoon and report to the general at 0800 tomorrow."

Momo slowly reached for the datapad and then jumped in her seat when Ichimaru's hand came down to cover hers on the pad. She hadn't even seen him move. She looked up at him, blinking wildly.

"You've been granted an incredible opportunity, Lieutenant Hinamori. Aizen thinks you'll be a valuable asset to our department." His smile grew wider. Momo didn't think it possible. "We've had our eye on you."

She blinked at him again.

"You've done good work," Ichimaru as he straightened. He tapped the datapad. "Remember. 0800."

"Yes, sir. I'm honored, sir," she said. She swore he winked at her as he turned away and wove his way back through the crowd. Bewildered, she turned to Renji, who looked back at her with a little smile. "Transferred?" she questioned quietly.

"Transferred," he echoed. "I hear Aizen's a good general to work for and if you're under his direct line of command, you can't be doing bad."

"Directly under...?" Her voice was small. Oh, dear God, directly under Brigadier General Aizen? She wasn't ready for that! She was just a lowly little desk worker and definitely not ready for that kind of responsibility.

Renji's little smile became a full-blown grin. "Hey, maybe it'll be a promotion and a pay raise."

She blinked at him, jaw agape. She hadn't thought of that.

"You can start buying me lunch."

At that, she squeaked and lightly backhanded his shoulder. "You still outrank me, for the time being. I think you should be buying me lunch," she said.

He clapped her shoulder almost hard enough to send her toppling forward into her plate. She braced herself on the edge of the table and blinked at Renji. He laughed, former sheepishness apparently forgotten. "Meet me tonight at The Seven. I'll buy a round of drinks to celebrate."

"Renji..."

"I mean it."

She sighed and relented. "I can't stay late. I'll have a busy day tomorrow." Momo stilled and blinked. "Oh... I have a lot to do this afternoon. Renji, I have to pack up. I have to make sure everything's in order for my replacement." She stood quickly while Renji wrapped what was left of her sandwich in napkins and handed it to her. "Oh." She took it with a smile, patted his shoulder, and trotted out of the cafeteria.

"Good luck," Renji called after her, shaking his head. That was an eventful lunch – and now he was sitting alone at an empty table. Izuru owed him drinks tonight for bailing like that. He turned his attention back to the pasta (that wasn't really pasta) and resigned himself to a quiet lunch hour. He'd probably have to drag Momo out of her office, come this evening. Hell, he'd just plan on it – her and Izuru both would be working late.

He had no idea how he ended up with such workaholic friends.

* * *

The news came the next morning and it was Izuru who hand-delivered the memo to them both, in their respective offices. (Renji's office wasn't really an office, per se. In charge of multiple squads and the training of said squads, he didn't actually find a lot of time to sit down and work on anything resembling paperwork. He had a corner full of file cabinets in another person's office. He called it a storage shelf; Izuru thought the more appropriate name would be trespassing upon another person's space.)

Renji had taken the news as expected, with a frown and a few moments of silence before beginning to mutter about better training for his squads. No one would be caught out like Tohtsoni had, by Threat or Infected. No way in hell. Not any one of the squads he trained. They'd be better than that. Izuru left him to his muttering and his planning, after a quick promise to meet up for a few minutes after the (official) workday and talk through some of those plans.

Momo, deep in rearranging her new office to her standards and fretting over getting everything just right, looked about ready to burst into tears. Izuru hadn't wanted to tell her the news, not when her friend's death had left her so raw, but she would have found out sooner or later and he wasn't going to stand accused of keeping things from her. She took the datapad with a trembling hand and read it carefully, then handed it back with a sad sigh. "I've a lot of work to do," she said.

Izuru's shoulders slumped. "Momo..."

She reached up and rubbed her eyes. "What do you want me to say? Yes, I knew him. Yes, he was one of Toushirou's. We get squads taken out every week. We can't treat this one any differently."

"This one was so close, though." Close, Izuru thought. How fitting. Close in distance – only a few miles from the base – and close to home, especially so for Momo.

"I can't do this right now." Her eyes were bright and wide, pleading with him to just drop the subject. "I have too much to do." She tried to force a little smile, just for his sake. It didn't work very well. "Besides, Renji bought me so many drinks I can hardly see straight."

Izuru didn't smile, but his tone was lighter. "You did go home pretty tipsy."

She waved her hands at him. "Shush, you. The last thing I need is my new bosses to her that, okay?"

His chuckle was forced and short. "Okay, okay. I'll hold it over your head later. Look, Renji wants to meet up at six; he's going to have some new training methods for his squads and wants feedback."

She nodded. "I'll be there. Usual place?"

"Cafeteria," Izuru confirmed.

Her nod was quick and decisive.

He hesitated. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Of course." Her tone belied her words, but there wasn't much Izuru could do about it. She'd asked him to drop it and so he would not pursue. "I'll see you this evening."

He left with a quick, soft goodbye and Momo sighed when he closed her door. She pinched the bridge of her nose, then sat at the desk, slowly resting her forehead in her hand. She couldn't think so personally about this one. Like she'd told Izuru, entire squads were killed sometimes. It wasn't that irregular an occurrence. It always – ialways/i – struck them hard though. It was one hell of a reminder that nothing they did was quite good enough and all they were doing was just surviving. They tried though. Kept trying. Someone had to.

But knowing it was Toushirou's old squad that had been ripped apart so brutally... That hit Momo harder than she ever thought it would. She hadn't even known them that well.

She sighed and sat back in her chair, then grabbed the closest datapad. Maybe it would be nice to write Granny a nice long letter. All these thoughts about Toushirou needed purged somehow. She would have liked to actually write the letter – longhand and on her stash of paper hidden away in her desk drawer – but that would require a hand-delivery. Maybe she'd do that later, when she knew she was going out to Granny's. Until then, a datapad transmission would have to do.

Starting these things were always hard. Momo didn't have it in herself to come out and say that she'd been missing Toushirou and Granny, or directly say that she was wishing things would go back the way they were, way back when. Before the Threat and before the collapse. Before the Army. Before the Infected. Toushirou would have, maybe. He would have been that blunt, of that she was sure, but he was never one to go on about emotion. Momo was, though; she always had been.

At least she had some sort of excuse to start the letter. The new job would help with that and from there, it was a smooth segue into talking about her day. Momo was muttering the words to herself as she typed them out on the pad, so completely engrossed in the letter that she never noticed the man in her doorway. When he cleared his throat, she jumped, the datapad sliding from her fingers, and squeaked.

"Lieutenant Hinamori, I take it?"

Momo nodded dumbly. Oh, dear Lord, he had general's stars. _He had general's stars_ and she'd ignored him completely. Mortified, she snapped to attention, and managed to hit her knee on the side of her desk. She squeaked again and snapped off a perfect salute. At least she had that. It was the only part of this meeting that had gone right so far and she'd be damned if she didn't at least salute well.

He was silent for a moment and Momo waited for the inevitable dressing-down. She winced when he opened his mouth and then gaped when he laughed.

He laughed.

At her.

"At ease, Lieutenant." He held out his hand. "General Aizen, at your service. I just wanted to come meet my new assistant in person on her first day."

"Ah." She was being so eloquent. Momo swallowed once and reached out to shake his hand. "Lieutenant Momo Hinamori, yes. It's good to meet you." He was so _tall_, with tousled brown hair and warm eyes; she hadn't expect a general to look so handsome. She'd heard rumor, of course, of General Aizen's look and disposition, but she'd never expected a handsome man laughing (at her) in her office.

"I didn't mean to startle you." He had the grace to look sheepish and Momo started to relax a little. "I wasn't even sure about disturbing you."

She waved her hands. "No, no. It's fine." In all honesty, she shouldn't have been writing the letter. She could do that after her day was over.

Aizen took a few steps forward and stooped to pick up the discarded datapad, then held it out to her. "What were you working on?"

He would ask. Momo sighed, unwilling to lie, even if it was to save face. "I'm sorry, sir. It's a letter to my grandmother. I..." She trailed off and shrugged in the face of his indulgent smile. "I heard the latest news and wanted to write her."

Aizen furrowed his brow slightly. "Tohtsoni's squad? That's the only news I can think of."

She nodded. "I had a friend who used to serve with Sergeant Tohtsoni." She took the pad carefully and hugged it to her chest without even really thinking about it.

Aizen's thoughtful look melted into one of understanding. "Have at it, then. If Gin is to be believed, you were here early, were you not?" On Momo's nod, he continued. "You've earned a break." He held up a finger. "Fifteen minutes is all we officially allow around here."

Momo nodded sharply. "Yes, sir. Fifteen minutes."

Aizen turned for the door and paused just as he was about to step out. "Oh, Hinamori?"

"Yes, sir?"

He turned, then dug in his pocket. "I have something for you... Ah, here." He held out a small blue bottle, then shook it slightly. "Gin told me you'd been having some trouble with a persistent cold. I had the infirmary write you up a prescription for these. They're better than anything you get over the counter."

Blinking, Momo took the bottle. "How...?"

Aizen laughed again. "My dear, I have my sources. Simply trust me when I say I know." He held up a hand in a simple wave. "I will meet with you more formally in the morning. We can discuss what I expect from you then. In the meantime," he said as he disappeared from her office, "do start to feel better."

With one hand holding the datapad and the other the small bottle of pills, Momo blinked at the suddenly empty door. "I will, sir," she called, hoping he heard her acknowledge his comments. (It wouldn't look well otherwise.) She sat, putting the pad and the bottle both on the desk, stared at the bottle for a few moments before shrugging and opening it.

Couldn't hurt to try, at the very least.

She downed one pill, set her water aside, and picked up the interrupted letter to Granny. Now she had even more to tell her. Maybe this day wouldn't be so bad after all, and maybe she'd be able to join the guys and help Renji with his training schedules without feeling like so much baggage. The last thing she wanted to do was be there with a promise to help and not be able to focus.

* * *

If it weren't for the fact that Rangiku had actually saved his life, Toushirou might have kicked her to the curb by now. It was like she went out of her way to find out what annoyed him and then did it anyway, just to see how he'd react. Right now, she was working to get him to drink some of the hooch she'd managed to make. That stuff – which he'd tasted before, thanks – was better used as paint thinner than refreshment. He wasn't sure he'd had a throat left if he gave in to her and downed whatever she sat in front of him.

She told him he needed to relax. He told her that he'd relax when they got camp moved. She pouted. He scowled. With the exception of why he wouldn't relax, it was the same conversation they had at least twice a week. Rangiku seemed to think he was wound up too tightly. He might agree with that, but he had every reason to be. It was like she didn't understand that both the military and the Threat were closing in on them. But then, she would set to work and actually get a few things done and Toushirou found himself never quite sure of her. He should be; he'd known her long enough to get a good read on her but he found that he was still trying to convince himself that he could trust her.

She'd probably be hurt if she knew that. (And, strangely enough, that had him leaning toward trusting her a little more.) As it was, she was pouting at him, and he take the pouting over a genuine hurt look.

"Toushirou. You really need to just sit out for a little while."

Then again, it depended on how long she pouted at him. "There's no time for it."

She sighed and fell into step beside him as he crossed the small center square of the tent village. He stopped, nearly sliding in the mud, as Kiyone scampered across the square in front of him, arms laden with pots and pans. Rangiku slid to a stop, huffing as her hands came down on his shoulders to steady herself. "She needs to watch where she's going."

"That might help," Toushirou said dryly.

"Sorry." The call came from the entrance of the large tent, where Kiyone was currently trying not to drop her load as she pushed the flap open. Toushirou took one step forward to help before she suddenly seemed to get everything under control and disappeared inside the tent.

"So much activity around here," Rangiku muttered.

"There's a reason for that."

"I know." She sighed and dropped one hand from his shoulder. "You sure I can't get you to not go out this time?"

He shook his head. "We have to keep track of what's close." That meant going out and Toushirou wasn't about to send other people out. They were all exhausted, all having worked through the night to pack up. He wasn't going to send out someone who was about to fall over asleep on their feet. He'd pulled longer shifts than this not only back in the Army, but even during his days in this camp. He was better suited for this than most anyone else in camp and he had the training and experience to back it up; too bad Rangiku could not seem to grasp that.

Her hand tightened on his shoulder. "Other people can do that."

Toushirou rolled his shoulder, effectively dislodging her hand, and gave her a flat look. (He hated that he had to look up at her and, judging by the that strange sparkle in her blue eyes, she knew that and reveled in it.) "Other people don't have the training I do."

"Yes," she conceded, "but they do have more sleep under their belts."

"I've gone with no sleep before."

She gave him a pointed look. (Very pointed, if he did say so himself.) "Yeah. Last night."

He returned her look with a flat one of his own. "I'm fine, Rangiku."

"You said you were ifine/i the day you woke up, too, and I distinctly remember you collapsing no three steps from the cot."

She probably thought she had him there. This was completely different: he wasn't sick right now. He was working. "I tripped."

"On your own feet." She pushed wayward strands of reddish-blonde hair out of her eyes.

"On a rock." He glanced up at her before starting forward again. Her hand dropped from his shoulder and he heard her huff in annoyance as she followed.

"You shouldn't go out there right now."

"I don't have a choice." He stopped in the doorway of an abandoned building, a shell that had had once been a small family home. It wasn't really livable right now, but it made for good storage; the plan had been to start fixing up some of these buildings and start making homes out of abandoned shells. Couldn't do that with the Army hounding them, though. He rather wondered if it would ever be able to be done.

Rangiku stopped near him, leaning against the doorjamb and redoing her ponytail as he snagged his rifle and started rooting for bullets. "Why don't you let me come with you, at least?"

"There's too much that needs done here." Toushirou didn't look up at her as he answered. He pulled out a box of bullets, frowning at the supply. It needed organized better. This was a mess. He wasn't even sure how many of this caliber they had left. "I need you here, making sure this stuff is taken care of." He paused as he gave the storage shelves a scowl. "And get this packed up in some semblance of order, would you?"

"How about we do that when we unpack it?" Rangiku pushed off the doorjamb and followed him to the edge of the encampment. "You really don't even need that, you know. There's enough moisture in the air for you."

"I know," he conceded. She knew as well as he did why he carried the rifle. He just felt better with it. He'd been trained to fight with it. Better to go with what he knew than struggle with new power that he wasn't sure about. He didn't know how it worked, or what he could do most of the time. No sense in tempting fate and making something he knew nothing about a primary defense. (Or offense, as the case may be.) "It's back-up."

"It is not," she said with far more conviction than he liked to hear when she was contradicting him.

He snorted at her and slung the rifle over his shoulder. She reached out and grasped his shoulder, pulling at him until he half-turned in her direction. "What?" he snapped.

Rangiku raised a brow and sighed at him. "If you aren't back before nightfall, I'll send out a team."

His eyes narrowed. "You are not letting anyone go out at night." Not for him. Not for ianything/i.

"Don't force it, then."

"Rangiku." His voice was hard. "No one goes out at night."

"Even you?" she asked.

He hesitated. Well, no... Not even him. He'd go out in the darkness if he had to. It depended on the reason, but he would never let his own idiocy be the reason anyone went out courting the Threat. "I'll be back. You won't have to consider it."

She nodded once, sharply, and dropped her hand from his shoulder. "I'll see you tonight then."

He echoed her nod and turned away, intending to leave without another word. No sense in saying goodbye when he was coming back, or telling her to get to work when he knew she would. Why say it when it didn't need said.

"I'll save you some dinner," she called to his retreating back.

He lifted a hand in small wave. Right, right. Dinner. Knowing her, she wouldn't be happy until he ate something anyway. She'd probably take it upon herself to force-feed him if she thought he wasn't eating enough.

"I've got just the thing to help you relax, Toushirou," she called and he could hear the impish lilt in her voice. "You can look forward to that."

He flinched. Oh, God... The whole camp was going to hear that and assume all the wrong things. She had no shame. None. Not at all, especially when it came to teasing him. He paused at the edge of the clearing and glanced over his shoulder at her. Sure enough, she was waving to him, grinning like some damned loon. "Get to work!"

She laughed – a little strained, even he could hear it from there – and walked back into the center of their small camp. Toushirou shook his head and continued on his way.

They both had some work to do.

* * *

The sun had set. It had to have. Toushirou wasn't sure of the time, but the sun had been setting the last he knew. He remembered the fall and remembered seeing the dimming sun's rays peeking through the alleys and highlighting the debris. It had almost been pretty, almost soothing. Toushirou figured that that sort of stupid reaction to something as mundane as the sunset had to have been whatever drug was coursing through his system at the time.

He blamed the sedative – or whatever it had been – for seeing a smile plastered on that bastard's face. Toushirou had blacked out then, but not before seeing the leader of the military squad grinning at him. Judging by the soreness in his neck and the needle tracks on his arms – not to mention the restraints that kept him on what resembled a hospital bed – being unconscious may have been for the best.

Still didn't keep Toushirou from wondering, though. He felt lightheaded and nauseous. No telling what they gave him. And whatever had given him the welt across his temple was probably better off not remembered.

He half-turned – all he could manage right now – and shook the cuff, scowling as it rattled on the metal rail. Goddamn it, but what had he gotten himself into? Last he heard, the Army was simply exterminating the Infected and not giving a damn about them otherwise. Considering the way his head head, Toushirou was almost ready to believe that killing him outright may have been preferable. He grunted softly, tried to bring up his other hand to cradle his forehead, and then cursed when he realized he had both hands cuffed. Scowl firmly in place, he moved his foot and almost surprised when his ankles weren't similarly immobilized. They probably figured limiting the use of his hands was good enough.

It probably was because now his vision was swimming and he was ithis/i close to vomiting on the floor. (Because, honestly, he would never suffer the indignity of vomiting on himself while cuffed to a bed. He'd find a way to get on the floor. Where someone could step in it. Hopefully then they'd slip and fall on their ass and Toushirou would then feel entirely justified in throwing up on their damned spotless floor.) He'd never be able to kick anyone and make it useful. Kick someone and make it a little vengeful, sure. But not useful. Hardly even satisfying. First he needed someone to come in this spotless little hospital room.

Then again, it occurred to him that this was probably the furthest thing from a hospital. Looked more like a lab than anything and that set him on edge. It was the Threat's experiments with gene therapy and viral warfare that led to the Infected. He was already, in a way, a sort of lab rat. He'd rather not go through it again. Stretching, he barely managed to brush the fingers of his left hand on the IV inserted into his right elbow. He barely touched it and grunted, stretching just a little more, trying and failing to snag the damn needle. He didn't want whatever they were giving him. Frustration overwhelmed him and he cursed loudly and kicked the bed rail.

His vision swam and his head protested and he had to grab the railing to keep himself grounded. He focused on the rail, on the cool metal underneath his fingers, and let that one sensation fill his senses. Far better than letting the pain in his head and the general fuzziness of whatever sedative they'd filled him with take over. It was a trick he'd learned when he'd first heard the rain speaking to him. He had to listen solely to the water before it would respond. That ability, he'd discovered, had served him well in other, more practical, applications.

Gradually, he came back to himself. The grayness on the edges of his vision receded and the floor tiles stopped their swirling dance. The welt on his head went back to being a background ache he could ignore. He was breathing hard, hard enough that it took him a few moments to realize that his breathing wasn't the only sound in the room.

Her soft gasp shouldn't have been so immediately recognizable. Toushirou hadn't heard it for years. Not since that day a few months before he'd "died" when he sprained his wrist in her presence. She'd looked at him, eyes wide and hand covering her mouth, that same soft ioh/i on her lips. He stilled and closed his eyes for a moment before he turned toward the door.

It was like he stopped breathing. His jaw went slack as he looked at her. Her eyes were too-wide, disbelieving. Tears were pooling, just spilling over her cheeks. Her hands were shaking, clasped together in front of her mouth. She'd be worrying her bottom lip behind those hands. He knew her well enough to know that much. Even two years of separation could not dull those memories.

She found her voice before he could speak. "What are you?"

She tried to sound commanding. She'd always failed when she spoke to him. "Hinamori..." What was he? He was her friend. He always had been, Infected or not.

She swallowed and took a step back. "Shut up."

"Hinamori, don't..." He rattled the cuff again, hoping against hope that it would somehow miraculously let loose.

Momo turned on her heel and ran from the door, her footsteps echoing in the corridor.

He was left to stare at an empty doorway.

* * *

Her office wasn't quite a safe haven yet. She'd only been there a few days. A week, at most, learning General Aizen's ways and settling it. It wasn't quite hers yet, even though Aizen had been nothing but thoughtful. It was the only place she had, though. Momo closed the door behind her and leaned against it for a moment, and then fairly dove for her desk chair.

She'd heard the rumors: Colonel Ichimaru had captured one of their enemies, but whether it was one of the Infected or the Threat no one quite knew. It didn't matter. Neither were human. It was the second part of the rumor that had her heading down that long hallway to see what was in that room. They said it had looked like an officer who'd died a couple years ago. General Aizen had tried to keep it quiet; Ichimaru had hushed the rumors the second he'd heard them but it was too late. Momo had already heard. A few quiet questions to the right person and she had a vague description.

That was enough. More than enough. She'd stared at him – at _it_, because there was nothing human there, not anymore. Maybe there never had been. Maybe it only took his form. That had to be it. It hadn't even got him quite right. His hair – its hair – was too light. Too white, instead of blond. The eyes had been too bright. Its voice had been a little too low and its mannerisms just a little off. All of it, just a little off. It wasn't him.

Momo cradled her forehead in her hands, desperately trying to hold back the tears. Just a few days ago, she'd been lost in nostalgia. She'd finally shook it off and some damned Infected took his form and ended up in her general's possession. How... ironic. She scrubbed at her cheeks and took as deep a breath as she could manage.

She tried to banish him – and it – from her thoughts but he stayed. Stubborn brat, just like always. As much as she could say everything else had been off, she couldn't rationalize away the haunted expression he wore. Couldn't forget the wide, haunted eyes. The way he'd rattled the cuff on the rail. The way he'd looked at her. Almost right through her. He'd always been able to tell what she was thinking.

No. _He_ had. It never had. It had never met her. Toushirou had been able to know what she was thinking before she did. That _thing_ in the lab had never known her. Had never set eyes on her before. It was caught in a lab, strapped to an uncomfortable bed. That was why it looked so haunted.

Except, a small part of her brain supplied, he had looked at her like he'd known her.

That part of her brain needed to shut up. Momo leaned back in her chair, hand still over her face, and swallowed hard. She never should have gone down there. _Never_. She knew General Aizen worked to find a vaccine against the Infection and she knew there might be some experimenting with trying to make it backfire on the Threat. She knew that and had no problem with it. She even knew it meant sometimes working with a live subject, though none had been brought in for some time. That was fine, too. The Infected weren't human anymore. They weren't even alive.

That wasn't him in that room. That wasn't him shackled to a bed. It wasn't him they were using as a live subject.

_It wasn't him_. All she had to do was believe that.

The knock at her door wasn't entirely unexpected. General Aizen said he'd be stopping by this afternoon and her headlong flight through the hallways hadn't exactly been stealthy. Momo rubbed her forehead for a moment before telling him that he could come in. He came into the office slowly, but not timidly, and carefully latched the door behind him.

Momo started to stand, her hands clutching at the edge of her desk, but Aizen waved her off. She sat again. She didn't really speak because she was waiting on him; she really icouldn't/i say anything. Seeing that thing that looked like Toushirou had just drained her completely. She had no idea what to say, or how to start a conversation. That had never been a problem, in this week she'd known General Aizen.

"I saw you rushing down the hallway, Lieutenant."

She nodded. "I'm sorry, sir." She was such an idiot. General Aizen surely wanted to see decorum from his officers, whatever happened. "That wasn't-"

"Lieutenant."

Momo pressed her lips together and looked up at Aizen. Despite her fears – she had pictured a disapproving look and a lecture coming her way – his eyes were kind and his mouth was set with a concerned frown. "Yes, sir?"

Aizen sat in the chair across from her and leaned forward, until his elbows rested on the edge of her desk. "I just wanted to check on you. I was concerned."

She winced. "I'm sorry. That was... unprofessional of me."

"What sent you running down the hallways, Lieutenant Hinamori?"

She shook her head. "It won't happen again, sir." Maybe if she could evade the question altogether, he wouldn't press for an answer.

"Momo."

Oh, she couldn't ignore that. An order wrapped up in concern was impossible to ignore. "I heard the rumors."

"Rumors?" he asked as he scooted his chair closer to her desk.

"About the Infected that was captured," she admitted. Momo peeled her fingers off the edge of the desk and went to gripping her thighs.

"Mm, yes." Aizen sighed. "I had tried to squash those rumors before it got out of hand. We're concerned with finding a vaccine and don't often get live subjects. It's better to keep wild rumors from circulating when we do."

"I didn't mean to make things difficult. I really didn't. I just had to go down there and see." Momo looked up at him, lips pressed together as she brushed a stray strand of hair of her forehead. "I know I'm not technically supposed to be down there, sir. It was just..." She trailed off, swallowed and tried again. "I had to-"

"Lieutenant." He reached across the desk and held his hand out to her palm up. Blinking, Momo hesitantly placed her hand in his. He squeezed her fingers. "It's quite all right. I can't blame you. I did a little digging when it was brought in and I have to apologize to you."

"A-apologize?"

"Yes, Lieutenant. Apologize." He squeezed her fingers again and then dropped her hand. "He was your friend, wasn't he?"

Unable to really speak, she nodded.

"He _was_, Hinamori. Remember that. The Infected are no more than a parasite – a virus – that manipulates the host's body. Your friend is dead. You saw how he changed. It wasn't him anymore, was it?"

She shook her head. "No, sir." But there was that part of her that told her differently. That insisted that when she saw that look in his eye, she was looking at Toushirou, not some thing that looked like him.

Aizen sat back, expression kind. "Maybe it's best you don't go back down there."

"Yes, sir," she said, dipping her head toward him. He was right. There was no sense in pursuing sorrow.

He nodded once. "Good. It's for the best." He paused and then sat back. "How have you been feeling lately?"

Momo blinked, jaw dropping a bit at the abrupt change in subject. "Oh. Uhm, all right, I suppose. I've had a few more headaches over the week."

"Have the pills I've given you helped at all?"

She half-shrugged and gave him a sheepish little smile. "I guess it's just been a stubborn cold."

"Or perhaps you haven't rested like you should, my dear."

Momo had the grace to blush. "I just wanted to make sure I settled in well here."

"Hinamori."

"Yes, sir?"

"As your general and direct commanding officer, I am ordering you to get some rest." When she began to protest, he held up a hand. "Take a few days off. You're been an exemplary officer in the week you've been here. Take the next few days off. Keep taking the medicine I gave you."

"I will."

"You'll go rest?"

"Yes, sir. This afternoon." She nodded. "I need to finish up a couple things." At his frown, she added hastily, "it won't take more than a couple hours and I really do feel up to it now. I promise, sir."

He nodded once and stood. "Good. Don't bother with checking in with me before you leave. Just finish up and get some rest." He paused just after he opened her door. "I'll check back here in a couple hours, just to make sure you've gone."

She managed a bit of a watery smile for him as he left. He closed the door behind him and Momo sighed. He really was a kind man; she'd been lucky. For a few moments, she just sat there, then rubbed her cheek and swallowed. A kind man, yes, but she couldn't just take the answers he'd given at face value. It never entered her mind that he was lying to her; in fact, it was the contrary. Everyone knew that the Infected weren't the humans the virus took over anymore.

Momo just needed to have a bit of closure, she supposed. Toushirou at least deserved far more than simply being shunted aside, even if he was already too far gone to save. He was dead. She knew that. But there was something in Aizen's lab that looked enough like him that she felt obligated at least look again. Maybe it wasn't for the best – Aizen didn't seem to think so – but she had to.

She just had to.

Setting aside the few files she had to go through, she turned the computer toward her and signed onto the network. She had the clearance, as Aizen's personal assistant, that it wouldn't raise any eyebrows. Besides, she'd be on the network, digging through files, anyway. It was her job.

She started with Toushirou's personnel file. She simply perused it, taking note of any any tabs or links or other file numbers tucked away in it. He really had been talented, hadn't he? So many commendations. A couple official reprimands there, but Momo just shook her head at those. She knew the stories behind those; Toushirou had always been a little too blunt for his own good.

She scrubbed at her cheek. She wasn't going to cry. She wasn't. Taking another deep breath, she dove back into the file. There was a tab there, and she touched it. It brought up the death certificate and the reports surrounding his death. Her finger hovered over the reports tab for a moment and she finally sighed and pulled away from it. No sense reading Tohtsoni's report. She'd seen it before.

And there, on the death certificate was a link to the lab report and Colonel Ichimaru's report on the capture. Momo closed her eyes for a second, silently asking for permission and forgiveness for looking when her general had already said she shouldn't. He had her best interests at heart. She wholly believed that, and she knew he was trying to spare her pain.

She had to see for herself though.

Momo touched the link.

* * *

She was going to throw up. Momo stared at the disc on her desk and the bottle of pills next to it, her hand covering her mouth. She wasn't sure if she was glad for the high security clearance and the computer know-how or not. She never would have found this, if not for those. If not for those, she'd be blissfully ignorant.

So very blissfully ignorant.

Her breath hitched. Her throat was closing. All she could see was that disk and that damned bottle and all she could hear were General Aizen's words and all she could seem to think about was the lab reports. Even the headings had hit her like a punch in the stomach. The Infected had a subject number.

And then a name.

Colonel Ichimaru was still calling him Toushirou.

Toushirou Hitsugaya, former captain. His service number was still there, identifying him.

Was he...? Did they believe he was still in there? When Momo had seen it, hope had welled up in her. Perhaps they were looking for a cure. Maybe – just maybe – they could bring Toushirou back. So what if he had to be restrained? Who cared if he had to be subjected to test upon test? If it brought him back, then who cared? She wanted him back. She had no doubt that he wanted to come back. She would stand beside Aizen and Ichimaru and help them bring him back.

But then she came across the file about her.

At first it had just been something a little strange. Of course Aizen had personnel files on his officers, but after she realized he had a file on her in the laboratory, she wasn't sure what to think. It was with a great trepidation that she'd opened it and read.

Opened it and read and nearly threw up, right then and there. And now, she was left staring at the copies she'd made of the files and the pills that were Infecting her. She blanched and took a few deep breaths, then glanced at her clock. Aizen would be here in a few minutes, if he was to be believed when he said he'd be by to check on her. Quickly palming the disk and the stuffing the bottle into her pocket, she scurried out of the office.

The bottle she kept, but the disk – embedded with the files she'd read and a note to Renji explaining them all – she slipped into Renji's inbox, just under a datapads and files. He'd find it soon; there was no way she was just leaving the disk on top and handing it to him personally came with questions and explanations she did not want to give.

That done, Momo found herself back in the corridors she'd ran headlong through just a few short hours earlier. She swallowed hard, refusing to think of anything else besides what she was doing right now. There would be time later to try to pick up the pieces. Right now, she just had to do what needed done.

She walked into its room. (His room, maybe. She didn't know anymore.) The Infected was still there, hands still cuffed to the bed rail. If... if it was him... Momo swallowed. If this was really him, then she had a lot to apologize for. She'd left him there, at Ichimaru's mercy. The needle tracks on his arms were plain and Momo suddenly wasn't sure if that IV carried nutrients or drugs.

After all, she'd been given pills laced with the Infection. She closed her eyes, pushing that thought away right now. She couldn't deal with that. Not now. When she opened her eyes, the thing that looked like Toushirou was staring at her, eyes tired and not quite focusing on her. She hadn't really noticed the welt on his temple before, and a quick glance to his hands proved that he'd been messing with the cuffs. His wrists were red and raw. "You look awful." It slipped out before she could think about it.

He looked at her sharply, weary gaze sharpening into something else. She held his gaze for a few moments, trembling in the face of some immutable truth she couldn't escape. She had to ask now. She absolutely had to. Silence ruled for a few more moments, before she swallowed hard and forced the words past her dry throat. "Are you iyou/i?"

"Yes." His voice was rough and soft, but there was no hesitation.

"Can you prove it?"

His eyes closed. "Momo..." He trailed off. "Ask what you want."

"And you'll answer?"

"I always have."

Momo took one step forward and stilled completely. Part of her wanted to run inow/i and disappear. Forget this had ever happened and just find a place out in the middle of nowhere. Let the Threat take her or the Army kill her. Maybe she'd succumb to the Infection.

Maybe she'd live, and that scared her more than it should.

But, honestly, what would happen if she let him go? They'd lose one subject, but they apparently had many more among the troops, herself included.

Well, not for much longer. She steeled herself and stepped forward again, pulling a small key from her pocket. He was absolutely still while she undid one cuff.

"Hinamori?"

"You've said enough." And he had. The files said enough. He said enough. She couldn't deny it. She really couldn't. His hair was a little off, his eyes too bright, but it was him in there. Had always been. She reached across the bed and uncuffed his other hand then stepped back. "If you go right when you leave the door, you can slip out through the galley. There's a supply closet just past the first set of double doors. You can find an overcoat in there. Keep your head down."

He sat up slowly, rubbing his wrists. "You're sticking your neck out pretty far."

Momo shook her head. "No. I'm not." She wouldn't be around here for much longer anyway. There was no way they could catch her and punish her. Besides, she had a few days off. "I'm leaving."

He looked at her, eyes narrowed as he swung his feet to the floor and stood, wobbling on his feet. Momo half-reached for him but pulled her hands back. "Come with me," he said.

She shook her head. "I'll meet you."

"Hinamori, come with me."

If there was ever proof that it was him, that was it. "I promise." She hesitated. "Toushirou, I promise. I'll meet you. Please go now. I have to take care of some things here."

Toushirou took a few steps toward the door, stumbling once before he caught himself. "I'll come back for you if I don't see you."

"I know you will."

He just looked at her for a few moments before he ducked out of the room. Momo stepped through the door and watched him move as quickly as he could down the hallway. He was stumbling a bit and he sometimes pressed his hand against his head. He was stubborn, though, and he'd make it. There shouldn't be anyone in the direction she sent him.

Momo squared her shoulders and turned away, then jogged down the hallway in the opposite direction. One more thing to do. Just one more. One short message. Granny should know that she wasn't alone completely.

* * *

Slipping out had been easier than Toushirou had thought it would be. Despite Momo's direction and her assurance that he wouldn't run into anyone, he couldn't help but be paranoid. He was an Infected in an Army installation, completely unsure of Momo's motives. That alone was enough to set him ill at ease, but he wasn't about to not walk out of that damned room. He had every reason to be paranoid.

She'd seemed so confused when he'd first seen her and then simply overwhelmed and upset the second time that he wasn't sure what was going through her mind. He'd been like her, before getting sick: the Infected were the enemy. They weren't people anymore. It had been evident she'd been thinking it, that first time she'd walked into his room. He wouldn't put it past the general – Aizen, he thought, if he remembered right – to test him somehow. See how far he got or something. That bastard who kept coming into the room, taking sample after sample, was sadistic enough for it, of that he was sure.

Toushirou let his head fall back against the tree he was tucked up against and sighed softly. That self-same pink-haired bastard had never stopped talking. That damned voice was imprinted in his mind. Probably would have nightmares laced with that smooth voice, and peppered with Colonel's Ichimaru's wide smiles. He's spent his time sneaking through the base, looking over his shoulder and hoping against hope that Momo wasn't actually in on some sort of test. Testing his intelligence or resolve or what, he didn't know. Maybe just messing with him. Maybe they would set him up just so he'd take a fall and see how much he could take.

But Momo had sent him a way that he knew would be sparsely populated and, true to her word, there had been an overcoat in the supply closet waiting for him. She said she'd follow and she had better. Toushirou would go back in there and drag her out if she didn't show up soon, too.

He had found a place out of sight, after doing his level best not to stagger too obviously on his way out, and rested there, in small ravine off the main road only a handful of kilometers from the base. It was a forest area and not anywhere he should stay after dark. Unless the drugs – and likely concussion – had really messed with his head, he had several hours until the sun started to set, and that meant he could settle on the forest floor. Carpeted by pine needles and hidden from sight by the slope and a large down log, Toushirou felt fairly secure in his position. He had tucked himself against a tree, where the log rested against the wide trunk. If anyone came by, they'd do so on the road and hopefully not look down here. He needed the time to rest, and he needed more time to think.

Whether he was waiting for Momo to follow or biding his time until he went back and dragged her out, he didn't know. She'd promised him that she would be behind him, but how far behind him she didn't say. After what she'd done for him, there was no way in hell that he'd leave her to rot in an Army installation. Not after she committed treason.

It was overcast now. Normally, Toushirou wouldn't have cared in the least. Sometimes water in the atmosphere was an advantage, but he never counted on it. Now, though, was a different story. He couldn't very well stay on the road and keep watch, for a variety of reasons. He didn't want to be anywhere within eyesight of anything on that road (unless it was Momo). There was no way he'd be able to defend himself, either from the Army or from the Threat. His only consolation was that the Threat normally stayed away from areas with a high concentration of soldiers.

That wasn't much of a consolation, all things considered.

He wasn't sure if he could even keep his eyes open. His head still hurt. He wasn't sure he was thinking straight. Nothing was quite iright/i; his vision was still gray on the edges and he wasn't certain that he wasn't going to throw up any time now. He shifted, wincing, and planted a hand on the damp ground, fingers pushing through the thick carpet of pine needles to curl into the wet soil beneath, seeking out the water flowing just out of his reach.

The water made this easier. Toushirou leaned back against the log he'd found, eyes closed, and sighed softly at the first droplets of rain that hit his face. He hadn't realized how much he missed the rain until he was back outside. That dry, closed room had stifled his senses and left every detail dull and unrefined. He let himself focus solely on the water; didn't need his other senses now. The rain would tell him what was coming and the cool water would soothe the ache that seemed to settle too deeply for him to ignore.

He relaxed, reluctantly, as the rain became heavier and steadier. He wasn't sure how long he had been there, only that it hadn't been too terribly long, when the rain whispered of a figure moving down the road. It was a slight figure, moving quickly and skirting the edge of the road. An image formed in his mind's eye, of Momo looking over her shoulder as she scurried down the road.

She'd really come.

Toushirou pushed himself to his feet and climbed slowly up the ravine. Hands pressed against a tree and leaning heavily against it, he pulled himself from the rain and peered down the roadway. Momo was wrapped in a heavy overcoat, arms wrapped around herself as she half-jogged down the road. She looked as paranoid as Toushirou had felt. He pushed off the tree, unsteady on his feet, and took a few steps from the edge of the road.

She stopped when she saw him then jogged forward. He'd expected questions, both times he'd seen her. She'd even implied she would ask questions during the second visit. He wasn't sure what he'd said or done that convinced her that it really was him, but he didn't want to question it. Toushirou almost expected those questions now but all she did was wrap her arms around his shoulders and pull him into a tight embrace.

He expected words and questions. He got shuddering shoulders and soft sobs instead. He curled his fingers over her shoulders. She didn't need to cry; they'd figure this all out. Momo pulled back, furiously scrubbing at her face, and then looked up at him.

She didn't say a word. She just looked at him, her expression completely lost and confused.

He knew that feeling. There was a moment where neither moved, and then he turned, put his arm over her shoulder, and started in the direction of his camp. With a little luck, they would still be around; knowing Rangiku, she wouldn't leave without him, the idiot woman. He leaned on her as they walked. Momo hadn't said anything yet. He wasn't sure if she could speak now; she seemed too overwhelmed. He couldn't blame her.

Toushirou couldn't blame her at all.

He was tired and sore and he wasn't sure how far they'd get before he had to stop and rest. That's when he'd make her talk. Until then, they simply walked together.

It was raining and Toushirou found himself listening to the steady, gentle whisper.

* * *

END.

Well. Of this one. I hope you've enjoyed. Please review, if you are so inclined. As always, crit is appreciated.


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